Friday, 30 April 2010


I have now migrated over to:


Friday, 23 April 2010

Wish sounds so much nicer than WANT...

There is so much in my lady spank-bank right now. So many pretty things that I am dying to be able to afford but just cannot at the moment. Instead, I'll consolidate some images into one blog post as a reminder of the things I currently NEED. (Ok, want... but shh.)

MAC Studio Fix Fluid Foundation
This stuff is worth 1000x its weight in gold. Easily the best face-based make-up product I've used. It glides over my combination skin and evens out my patchy-toned nose and cheeks. God I miss being able to afford this stuff...

Care Bear Hoodie
It says "Today is my Grumpy day". What more does a child of the 80s want in a retro hoodie?!

MacBook Pro
Humina, humina, humina.... why can't I afford one of these? They're just the ultimate in laptops for a media enthusiast. To boot, it's sexier than Penelope Cruz in stockings.

Irregular Choice boots
I am 99% certain that my life will not be as satisfying and fulfilling as it can be until I own these boots. Yes, it's shallow and needlessly girly (for me, anyway) but LOOK AT THEM.

Red Latex Gown by House of Harlot
Fap fap fap fap fap fap.... I don't think this needs any more than that as a description. Feels like a lifetime since I last went to a fetish club, but if I had the money I would purely justify this on its sex appeal. That and it is photoshoot-friendly.

I've just realised I could go on for several hours, which I don't know is a good thing. Maybe I have healthy ambition, or a strange delusion... I don't know. Either way, if Santa feels like dropping all of the above down the chimney later this year, would be tremendously grateful ;-)

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Avatar: Didn't leave me feeling blue

Last month, I finally got around to seeing Avatar, which has been pegged as a benchmark film by many, and an apparent "must-see" for any film enthusiast. As a co-owner of a rather obese DVD collection, I felt it necessary that I should cast judgement on it.

Now let me first say that I didn't see it in 3D, so perhaps I cannot comment fully on the quality of the visual effects. But even on a fairly low-budget high-res screen it looked pretty damned good. Vibrant, detailed, and just as awe-inspiring as I'd heard.

Now, with regards to the story. This is an area that seems to have been subject to heavy criticism for the similarities to other films or classic tales, such as Dances with Wolves, or even Pochahontas. (I should note that I haven't seen either of these films shamefully enough so I cannot personally comment on the story parallels. Avatar however, IS fairly contrived and tends to stretch the imagination by the first half hour alone. The first time the word "unobtainium" was uttered, both my partner and I scoffed, how ridiculous and unimaginative. We've since found out that this is an actual substance, so we were soon silenced.

As for the rest? Simply put, very simple. But that, for me, did not take away from the experience. Perhaps I would have thought differently had I seen the films that are meant to have already explored these themes on the same line of a story. But I haven't. Therefore I could just sit back and actually get swept up in what I think was just a an escapist fantasy story. No harm in that.

I am interested however, to see where film is going to go next. Avatar utilised 3D technology, animation, and so many other technical fireworks at their disposal I couldn't even think of them, let alone list or spell them. Just got me thinking how this can be built upon - CAN it be built upon? I'm starting to wonder if there is going to be a point when there is nothing else left to explore in this medium and we just end up being spoon-fed old films that have been reinvented on a big budget, techo-scale.

Can just see it now, Agent Higgins of the Linguo tribe takes a youngling Roughian orphan under his wing and teaches her the ways of his kind. My Fair Lady for future generations. A unique story that touches on issues that have never been....oh. Hang on..

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Structured anarchy?

So, the move out of London and into a new city has been completed. Metaphorically it was fairly painless, but physically I'm fairly sure that I am still toll-paying. To be expected really. Or is it? Christ knows. The NHS still aren't exactly falling over themselves to help me, despite several desperate pleas.

Predictable whinging aside, I'm re-evaluating what I should be using my blog for, in attempt to actually encourage myself to use it more rather than trying to sift through the myriad of random fuffle that sometimes pours out of my head.

So, what can be expected going forward? Pretty much the same to be honest. Just constant chastising of myself when I don't kick my own ass to write more:

- Reviews. Music, films, kitchenware, make-up, sex toys. Anything is possible under this category.

- Diary. My own personal ramblings and documentation of life. Some of these might end up public, but for the most part they'll be for my eyes only.

- Blog. This pretty much has to be an umbrella term for all debate or opinion-based prose. Makes it easier than picking out three thousand specific terms like debate, poll, rant, waffle, etc.

- Model/Art. As it says, really. If there actually is anyone reading my blog, they'll probably already know that I idly take part in various hobby-like activities.

No doubt I'll completely disregard most of these and wind up just spewing forth whatever I feel compelled to do so, but the general structure is there and even if anarchy does take hold at some point, isn't that the fun of these things?

Add me to your read list, drop me a line. I'd love to talk.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010

Proud to be different?

Here's a somewhat sensitive subject for people.

I'm an aspiring alternative model. And despite my love for all things fetish, latex, gore, horror, metal music, dark, gothic and the likes, I will never be accepted as a true member of the alt community.


Because I'm neither heavily inked or pierced. I have a few subtle piercings and a few tattoos that aren't immediately visible. This is instantly met with disdain by a lot of people, which is a terrible shame for several reasons.

The alternative community "pride" themselves on being more accepting than other social groups. The attitude of some people contradicts this. I've had more than one snide comment from people about my lack of sleeve/leg/full body tattoos.

Firstly, there is no way around it. Good tattoos by a reputable artist are expensive. VERY expensive. Artists whose work I admire usually start at around £80 per hour, and for large pieces you could be looking at 12 hours work for example. I don't have access to that kind of money, even if I was to save. It's a lot of money for someone like me that struggles to get by as it is.

Which leads me neatly onto work. Sure, I'll always be on the campaign bandwagon that is waving the flag to accept alternative types in the workplace. But to be honest, in 25 years of living, I've not seen much progress with regards to this in a lot of career paths. I'm not naive enough to expect this to do a massive u-turn anytime soon. As such, I can't help but be aware that if I don't make enough to survive by modelling, or when this chapter of my life is over I must get a day job. Unless I can wangle a lottery win this is inevitable. I'm a trained journalist, so the majority of jobs I go for will end up being office-based. While I'd love to walk in with a beautifully colourful and imagination inked body, chances are that my interviewers are going to judge early on. And while of course that's a shitty fact, it's a fact nonetheless. And I can't expect any different.

Likewise, with my hair colour. I love having tomato-red hair. It's bright, I feel sexy and it works very well in pictures. But I wouldn't kick up a fuss about going back to a natural shade if it meant getting a steady job with an income that means I can live comfortably.

I don't want to start yet another campaign bearing the slogan "Accept me! This is who I am!". But I would like to see elitism take a step down once in a while. Yes, I appreciate that the whole point of having heavily modded girls in commercial magazines is the point, that you don't see these girls in say, FHM. But why can't being alternative be about attitude and state of mind? In my natural form, I'm a 5'6 average-looking blonde. This doesn't mean that I don't listen to heavy metal. Nor does it mean I don't spend hours looking at pictures of amazing tattoos, wishing I had the money to get something more elaborate than I already have.

But isn't that part of the beauty of the contradiction here? If I could afford it, I'd reach a compromise. But for now, I shall continue to live as I choose.

Viva la individuality...

Tales from the City: Part Two

My Mother has always been into musicals. Mostly Andre Lloyd Webber's work, but not limited to his only. As such I grew up on this kinda thing (as well as my Dad's love for country and rock). Naturally, I fell in love with theatre and always felt a bit gutted that I never got the chance to go and see some of my favourite musicals. That is, until I moved to London and was in reach of London's world-renowned West End - Theatreland.

I know there's a "loser" stigma" that goes with a lot of musical-lovers but to be honest, I don't care, I'm going to share my experiences of those that stuck in my memory ;-)

Wicked - Victoria Apollo
Having been an avid Wizard of Oz fan as a child, I was naturally intrigued that there was going to be a musical based on the early lives of the two witches, Glinda the Good, and the wicked Witch of the West. Having not been a huge fan of the book by Gregory Maguire, I finally got to see the musical with an open mind - I am pleased to report that the musical is only VERY loosely based on the book. While maintaining its edginess, it also eliminates the whimsy that is an ongoing theme in the book.

Anyway, while the musical is enchanting, funny, touching and pure escapism it was the performance by Elphaba (the green witch) that led to a far more intoxicating love for the show. A one Miss Kerry Ellis (no longer performing as Elphaba sadly) is quite simply a tremendous performer, and her heart clearly leaps into every note she sings. I'll always remember the shows I saw her in very fondly. It's extraordinary when a performer captures an audience in this way.

The Phantom of the Opera - Her Majesty's Theatre
This was the big one for me. I first heard the original cast recording at a very young age, and was, like my mother, mesmerised. While I never really got into opera music (though later I would learn to love opera/metal) this musical-opera really did strike that balance. It's a beautiful story, really. I know, the lead is a borderline nutter with a penchant for casual violence and murder. But don't let that deter you.

While the first time I saw this musical will stay in my mind forever as a standalone memory, the second time was the one that seared through my body and pulled me into the music from start to finish. Partly, I think, because I had a much better view of the stage, partly because I was seeing it with my Mum - the originator of my love for the musical. But the performers had something that makes a show worth seeing. Chemistry. Ramin Karimloo as Phantom and Robyn North as Christine were perfect together. I mean perfect. When Christine faints into Phantom's arms towards the end of "Music of the Night" I actually almost gasped, right there, feeling every last tingle of Phantom's astonishment that the woman he loved was there, in his arms.

Still, there are some musicals that I haven't had the pleasure of seeing yet and would love to do so before I die:

Les Mis
My Fair Lady
Love Never Dies
Cats (highly unlikely, sadly)

Also recommended:
Blood Brothers, Avenue Q

Friday, 19 March 2010

Tales from the City: Part One

I don't remember when I first visited London.

I have patchy memories of various school or family trips, but none that really stand out as my "first" London experience. Again, a few odd visits as a teenager, nothing strikingly notable.

The first and lasting impression came with my selection of University. Although my campus lies on the outskirts of London/Middlesex in Harrow, at the time it still seemed very cityish to me. Especially the pace of things there. The attitude of people is what stuck with me though. I come from a very small village in North Essex. Very civilised, countryside corner of the county. My high school (while a horrid experience for me) had very little in the way of culture diversity, and anybody remotely different came up against a wall of hatred from most people.

But here? Different races, nationalities, genders, ages were going about their studies, laughing at units. I should mention that I've never been adverse to any culture groups of any nature, but up until that point I hadn't been exposed to anything like that, so I suppose I was quite naive.

I think that helped me choose that uni to be honest. The country lass in me wanted to learn the city way of life, and with most things that burn brightly, I was drawn to it. Eventually though, it burned my fingers and I'm ready to turn my back on the fire for the time being. Naturally, this leads me to reminisce some of my favourite memories from living/studying in the capital of England. I'll probably share these sporadically in the two weeks before we move to Peterborough.

Starting with a fairly recent(ish) memory. New Year's Eve 2008. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as being in London goes. But the company really was fantastic. Having been signed off work a few weeks previously, I was a bit of a black hole. But these guys brought me out of it to enjoy New Year's. My oldest friend and my boyfriend. There are so, SO many good nights to choose from with these guys, but this one stood out, because it epitomised what people will do for you when they care about you. :-)

Monday, 15 March 2010

A quick few thoughts...

Things that bug me, Monday edition:

Bad hair extensions. There's just no excuse for it if you have the money to spend on making yourself orange. I'm talking mis-matched blondes, plasticy, nasty looking wefted hair that's just been slopped in. Not pleasant.

On that same topic, bleach blondes that have random splodges of brown or back on their head. No, you don't look edgy, you look like a spaniel. (I'm a fine one to talk with my fake dreads, but please... at least they're one colour that match my real hair).

Blogger. It won't let me change my primary email address. Seriously... what's the point in limiting your functionality in this day and age?

IBS. Speaks for itself. It's messy, painful and debilitating.

The end.

Friday, 12 March 2010

Soundtrack to my Today

Those that know me will already know that my music taste knows no boundaries and I refuse to apologise for this fact. While my main passions will always be rooted in rock/metal, there is so much out there that sails through me and inspires me, so why the hell not enjoy it.

As such, there is an eclectic mix of stuff that makes its way onto my playlists these days, thought I'd share some of these songs, and maybe introduce someone that might stop by to something new. I really do encourage people to try listening to an artist they never would have thought of choosing before. You never know what you might find buried inside you.

Them Crooked Vultures - Gunman
Infectious, soul-lifting beat. Listen to it when feeling sluggish, it's nigh on impossible to sit still. Rest of the album is pretty damn great too, given the supergroup credentials, it's hardly surprising.

Lady Gaga - Dance in the Dark
Anyone seen Party Monster? This track sounds pretty much like it's straight out of that film. 80s beats smoothly mixed with that unmistakable Gaga sound, plus the lyrics are actually quite lovely.

Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah
Apparently this is one of the most covered songs of all time. Naturally one must go to the original track to find the root of why it was covered. In this case, it's pretty damned obvious that the velvety smooth voice of Cohen tells the story of the song perfectly. Also, check out "I'm your man" by the same artist. Intensely sexy tune.

KMFDM - Hau Ruck
Heard this live for the first time last year and quite frankly I was blown away by the onstage presence of KMFDM, this song in particular takes on a new persona when played - it not only remains one of my favourite industrial track beats - it also becomes sleazily sexy.

Motley Crue - Animal In Me
My "new" favourite band. I say new, because they replaced a band that was in my heart for a very long time. Their music inspires me in so, SO many ways these days, and it was bloody hard to pick a track, but I can't ignore the passion of this song. Written by Sixx, detailing the early days of his relationship with Kat Von D, it's a rock ballad with edge.

Pete Yorn - Lose You
It makes me cry, which this kind of soft indie-ish music NEVER does. Enough said, really.

Sixx A.M - Life is Beautiful
This song is currently my "pick-me-up" tune. It has Nikki Sixx's handiwork all over it. Catchy pop-undertoned hook, with a sleazy rock beat and thought-provoking lyrics. It takes some getting used to hearing him lyrics/bass beats with a vocalist that isn't Vince Neil, but persevere. I think it's worth it.

Dolly Parton - Jolene
Shut up, those now on the floor laughing. I can't ever forget my first foray into music, courtesy of my Dad and his unrelenting love of country music. While I still favour Johnny Cash over most country artists, who can deny the buxom-blondes take on every typical country "don't steal my man" formula isn't catchy as hell?


Anyone who has a similarly mixed playlist at the moment, comment, message me, add me to twitter (@paran0ir). Would love to keep on discovering new tunes that make life that little more enjoyable.

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Mollie comes out to play..

Torture Garden Valentine's Ball 2010 - Mollie reviews

My fourth experience of the world renowned fetish club fell managed to coincide with one of the holidays that I usually choose to ignore on account of it seems a bit odd to make a point of lavishing love on the same day as everyone else. Torture Garden however, is different. It's more a case of lavishing love on oneself, and pretty much anyone that you'd like to play with. And this was Mollie's first outing where she could play.

Despite a few hiccups with outfitting, a recent health complaint left me unable to teeter in my usual choice of stilettos, my companions and I managed to get ourselves on our way by 11pm, aiming for a midnight arrival, tres stylish, I feel.

The venue remains the same as the last two events I attended. SeOne just off London Bridge, a huge clubbing location, is pretty much perfect for the fetish underworld to stage their frolics at. A mix of larger rooms, smaller alcoves and dungeon-like spaces lend themselves well to the layout of TG, high ceilings in the ballroom in particular had wonderful scope for decoration – sumptuous red curtains, boudoir d├ęcor and mandatory poles made this room pretty much our stop point.

But enough about the interior. We were there to play.

My companion, Mr M and Susie looked delicious, and I felt sufficiently vampish strutting around beside them. Again, so many beautiful outfits, beautiful people. The atmosphere was different to any other TG I've been to, there certainly was an amorous touch to the air. As well as your usual domme/dom and submissives indulging in their own brand of BDSM, there were also people observing them, watching their writhing bodies and contorting faces. As we took the weight off our feet in one of the comfortable seating areas, Mr M and myself found ourselves entranced by a strikingly beautiful domme (encased in a stunning cream corset), encouraging her devoted sub to go down on her. As he teased at her thighs with his tongue, her lips parted and suddenly, there was nobody else around, just those two. And us watching. Mr M squeezed my thigh, perhaps affectionately, perhaps in a statement of his dominance over me, allowing me to enjoy the spectacle. There was a wonderful moment where the bass of the music pulsed through the furniture and the corseted lady cried out into the night, the vibes proving to be just what she needed to tip her over the edge.

I think this was the point that we decided it was necessary to play. No more a perfect place for this than the Arabian Nights room, where there was all sorts of apparatus and equipment, sure to keep us salivating at the options. After watching an incredibly magnetic performance where a dancer moved with a live snake, we settled to watch a scene. A hot as hell submissive, clad in red latex, clung to an A-frame, biting her lip in tortured pleasure as her companions spanked her, with a variety of severity and implements.

Of course, is was inevitable that just watching wasn't enough for me anymore, so I requested that Mr M let me approach. Upon his granting, I tentatively asked red latex if she'd allow me to kiss her. This was my first time entering somebody elses scene, so I was very prepared to be knocked back. However, she responded by snaking a hand behind my neck and kissing me passionately. Hell. It was my single hottest moment at a fetish club so far. Until Mr M tugged me away (much to my protests) and positioned me on the opposite side of the frame. I was encouraged to reignite the passionate clinch that I had just been dragged from, but this time I was to receive some attention of my own. So while I had the absolute pleasure of becoming acquainted with a gorgeous woman, I was also receiving a hard spanking from an increasingly excited Mr M.

At one point I remember pausing, only to find fingertips teasing me into another clinch, this time with the corseted lady we had watched reached climax earlier. She was equally a wonderful kissing partner, soft, sensual and her scent travelling straight down my torso settling in my thighs.

This continued for around five or so minutes until red latex was lead away by her companion. Before we parted, she introduced herself as J. My exchanged cheek-kisses and went on our way. Even now, writing this back, I feel that familiar warmth growing inside me. My first play at TG involving other women was really quite something. I believe that it served to open my mind, and Mr M's too.

The rest of our evening played out in the ballroom, where we acquired a table and just observed. Which is nothing to be sniffed at when you're at such a place. There's so much to see, to do, to taste, to feel.

I just have an inkling that next time, there'll be a lot more feeling going on.

Tuesday, 2 February 2010

Storm in a DD Cup

This is an issue that never used to apply to me, and I'm actually kind of proud now that it does...

I remember my first bra. My Mum bought it for me from our local Friday market after relentless nagging from me, having noticed that pretty much all the girls in PE at school now wore bras. I didn't have any friends at school, and only really spoke to one or two people of the same sex, so when Mum came home brandishing a 30AA bra, I was mortified to discover that it was still too big. I didn't know who to talk to, so I just wore it anyway, and suffered the jokes in the girls changing rooms. I pretty much remained at this size throughout puberty, my hips grew, I got body hair, got hormonal at the stupid things and discovered my clitoris.

But my breasts? They weren't budging. I didn't have my first period until nearly the age of 17 as well, to add insult to injury. Boys only noticed the girls that strained the buttons of their school shirts like bulging water balloons in a hankie. Bee stings weren't attractive. Though I used to affectionately refer to mine as "the eggs", being pale skinned as it was, I also had really pale nipples. It was just hideous. The first time I was ever "intimate" with a male, I remember the look of pure disappointment on his face. Like a kid wanting to get a GI Joe for Christmas and receiving a pair of Barney socks.

But anyway, once my periods got going I did actually manage to grow a somewhat acceptable pair of tits as far as general society goes. At a steady B-C cup throughout my late teens and early twenties, I found bra-buying a hassle-free concept, guys seemed content with the size I was, and I thought my days of mammary-related anguish were over.

Enter the unexplained, but probably hormonal, weight gain. It went on my hips and my breasts, like a second wave of puberty. Is that even remotely possible? Got myself measured just before Christmas of 2009, and anyone who knows me will know that I've been screeching my size from the rooptops like a horny teenager shouting that he's just laid the class whore.

32DD. Oh yes, they're all mine, and I can't stop looking at them/playing with them/admiring them in all manner of tops.

But with the joy, comes pain. Pain. Apparently, most shops expect women with this size (a slimmer torso but fuller breasts) to have implants, therefore rich enough to shell out for custom sized bras, or designer labels that cater for such women.

In Primark at the weekend, and I mean a HUGE Primark, among the scores of lovely and affordable lingerie, I found ONE bra in my size. One. Same story in other high street stores that generally are accepted to be pocket-friendly on frugal ladies like myself. My issue is this: not all girls with smaller band sizes but fuller cup sizes are silicon-toting bikini adorning goddesses with zero fat on them. I can't explain my body size... narrow ribs and shoulders... then just BREASTS, bit of a curvy belly, and ARSE. That's it. That's my shape.

Doesn't mean however that I am happy to either pay extortionate amounts to house my happy breasticles. Or settle for plain over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder style flouncies.

La Senza have the right idea - their DD+ range starts at the lower end of the band size scale, and still offer sexy lingerie that doesn't go too mad on price.

But I really would like to see the uber pocketfriendly shops having a bit more consideration for us girls that have boobs. REAL ones, not fake.

Now please excuse me while I go play with them some more.

Sunday, 10 January 2010

Writing isn't a cure..

Popular chick-lit writer Marian Keyes posted a newsletter on her web site this week, admitting her ongoing battle with depression. She went on to explain that she'd be taking some time out, and unsurprisingly in the age of understanding, there was an outpouring of support on her web site.

Inevitably there'll be holier-than-thou types that berate her, and comment that depression seems to just be 'fashion' etc, these days. Believe me, I've heard it all over the years, and while they never stop irking me, I've come to expect that attitude.

But this comment from Margaret Drabble (Guardian) really rattled my cage.

"Marian Keyes, in speaking out about her current desperate state, is already moving on. She is a writer and she will probably write her way out of it. That's what writers do."

To use her own ludicrous logic, there are no words to describe this woman's ignorance. Someone already commented on the piece but I will reiterate it here - Sylvia Plath did well to write herself out of depression, didn't she? Yes, she put out some food for the family then put her head in the oven.

She also puts the current openness of depression sufferers down to fashion. Really? Audicity, much? I think you'll find that most people feel able to be open now because of the general acceptance level going up - NOT because there is a bandwagon to jump on. And even if there were, who the hell is Drabble to take away a chance for depressive people to feel better?

And anyway, anyone who has suffered with any form of mental illness, will tell you that there aren't words to describe how desperate the feelings can get sometimes. It's as simple as that, there ARE no words. And if it were that simple to get over, there'd be a very rich person sitting on a basic and powerful cure.

It just angers me that in a world that popularizes all sorts of cultures, a rambling, knowledge-less journalist would cheapen the chance that any sufferer takes to feel better.

I've never been a fan of Marian Keyes' books - but I feel thorough pity and empathy for her. Hope she's back in business soon.

Guardian article: HERE

Marian Keyes' blog posting: HERE

Sunday, 3 January 2010

New year, new promises

It's a truth universally acknowledged that with the arrival of January 1st, comes a hoarde of resolutions from far and wide, slumped into one huge pot of broken promises that suddenly seem more relevant because "time is renewed". It's annoying bandwagon, but one that I am of course going to jump on and bore people with. Though I don't call them resolutions. More... targets. Makes it sound a bit more fighting.

Write more.
Here, there, everywhere. I want to blog more, at least twice a week, more if possible. There is so much I want to say both in the fiction and reality arenas and the only way this is going to happen is by forcing myself to write a whole lot more.

Take care of myself
I can't work at the moment because of a health problem that has no current solution. I'm in pain a lot of the time and always tired. Wherever this ends up leading, I will tackle it head on, and manage my time so that I devote enough of it to finally getting my body in its best condition. And yes, this means quitting smoking and cutting right down on alcohol.

Learn and master a new skill
I don't know what this is yet, and chances are that I won't know until later on this year. I'm not going to be specific about it, for all I know it could be knitting, drawing comfortably with a graphics tab, basic photography, learn the world's capital cities. I want to be able to say I've put my mind to something and learned a new skill.

Don't dream it.
I've tried on several occasions to turn my hand at modelling. Shoots I have done have always come back with great results and fantastic feedback from photographers, but then I don't chase anything up. It's been this way for about five years now. I enjoy it, and I'm still young enough to try new things with regards to it. I'm learning to love the way I look, so I want to celebrate that and work hard to achieve something, even if its just getting my pictures printed somewhere, just a one off.

Stop obsessing about getting off my meds
It might happen this year, it might not. I've finally learned that the important thing is to learn to live with myself the way I am NOW, rather than spend too much time thinking about wanting to get to know the person I could be when I'm not medicated.

And as with last year, I hope this year brings me the opportunities to meet new people, some in one-off chance meetings, others might wind up imprinting themselves on my heart long enough to become a friend. But I've learned how to interact with people now, I'm not the shy, bullied little girl I was in school. I've come this far, and there is no way in hell I'm giving up now.

Happy New Year.